“Ah,” I said, “I see you have thought of these things before, perhaps in your dreams, perhaps in the secrecy of your boudoir, perhaps in your imaginings, perhaps in putting the loop of a strap about your left wrist, and, suddenly, dramatically, drawing it tight.”
She sobbed.
“Excellent,” I said. “It is a shapely limb, is it not? Would it not look well in an ankle shackle?”
“Have mercy!” she begged.
“You are well aware, are you not, of the weight of the chain on your collar, of the sound of its links, and how you are fastened to the floor ring, naked, before a male?”
“Master!” she protested.
“Continue,” I said.
“Must I?” she said.
“Now,” I said.
“I was free,” she said. “You are making me behave as a slave!”
“And how are you behaving?” I asked.
“As a slave!” she said. “I am behaving as a slave!”
“Is it not appropriate?” I asked.
“Yes, Master,” she said.
“Why?” I asked.
“Because I am a slave!” she said.
She collapsed to the mat, sobbing.
“Kneel up,” I said to her, kindly. “You did well.”
She then knelt before me.
“Keep your knees together,” I advised her. I was, after all, only human. I then put the switch before her, and she leaned forward and, timidly, licked and kissed the supple leather implement.
She looked up. “Have me,” she whispered. “Please.”
There was a small stand, near the mat, in which a taper might be held.
“As a free woman?” I asked.
“No, Master,” she said, “as what I am, a slave.”
I gathered she had often thought of what it might be, to be a slave in the arms of a master.
“You are,” I said, “the former Lady Portia Lia Serisia of Sun Gate Towers.”
She regarded me, terrified.
“Do not deny it,” I said. “I know it is true.”
“Do not kill me!” she begged.
“That is not my intention,” I said.
“You are of Ar?” she asked.
“No,” I said.
“You want me, for a bounty,” she said.
I supposed there were bounties on certain citizens of Ar, who had managed to escape the wrath of vengeful crowds, the pursuits of licensed and unlicensed capture squads.
“No,” I said. “And, as far as I know, there is no bounty on you.”
“I saw my name on a proscription list, posted on the public boards,” she said.
“I do not doubt it,” I said.
“They want me, to kill me,” she said.
“Perhaps in the heat of the moment,” I said. “But I would suppose, after a time, that their sense of vengeance would be more than satisfied if they found you wore a collar in the north. Indeed, I have learned from others that various women of your sort were merely publicly flogged and collared, some then to become state slaves, most to be sold out of the city, to be distributed with contempt amongst inferior markets.”
“Does the proscription list not mean death?” she asked.
“Strictly,” I said, “it means apprehension, but it is true, that it is commonly a warrant for death, certainly for males, and often for women, free women.”
“They wanted our blood,” she said.
“At the time, in the rage of the crowd, I do not doubt it,” I said. “But, now, you might rather be brought before a praetor, for the iron and the collar.”
“Is that true?” she said.
“I do not know,” I said. “We could always take you there, and see.”
“No,” she said. “No!”
I smiled.
“I am not what I was,” she said. “The Kef has been fixed in my thigh, the steel is on my neck.”
“It is true,” I said. “You are not what you were.”
“I was not high amongst the Serisii,” she said. “I did not enter into their business. I was a lowly daughter, pampered and spoiled, given to a life of luxury and indolence! I had no control over the affairs of the house!”
“But you bore the name,” I said.
“Yes,” she said. “I bore the name.”
“But no longer,” I said.
“No,” she said, “no longer.” This was true. There was no longer a Lady Portia Lia Serisia of Sun Gate Towers. She was gone. There was now, not even really in her place, only an animal, a lovely animal. As far as I knew Torgus had not even, as yet, seen fit to give her a name. She then regarded me, frightened. “You know me,” she said, “or who I was. What do you want of me? If you do not want my blood, or to bind me, and trade me for a bounty, what do you want? Why have you sought me out?”
“No woman in a collar,” I said, “should be curious as to why a man might seek her out.”
“No, no,” she said. “You want more.”
“Perhaps I wish to buy you for a friend,” I suggested. I had, indeed, toyed with the idea of buying her for Pertinax. She was quite attractive. Might she not look well chained to his cot in the barracks? A strong man needs a slave, and is never content with less. Pertinax could certainly do worse than having his collar on one such as this.
She looked at me, frightened. I think it had not really occurred to her, other than as an abstract possibility, that she might be simply purchased and given to someone.
“Buy me?” she said, weakly.
“Yes, like a kaiila or tarsk,” I said.
“And then I would belong to another?”
“Of course,” I said.
“No,” she said. “There is something else, and I am frightened.” She looked up, blinking against the light of the taper. “What is it?” she asked.
“I want to speak to you,” I said. “I will question you. I want information.”
“I know nothing,” she said. “I am naked. I am on a chain. I am a slave.”
“The Serisii were high in Ar,” I said, “close to the throne. You, and others, sought escape from the city. Plans must have been laid against such eventualities as the rising. You must have heard one thing or another.”
“Master?” she said.
“What of Seremides?” I asked. “He was powerful in Ar, a deputy, so to speak, of Myron, the
“Surely he was apprehended and impaled,” she said.
“I have not heard so,” I said. A capture and impalement of such consequence would surely have been noted, and broadcast, I thought, throughout a dozen cities and a hundred camps.
The slave was silent.
“You have heard nothing?” I said.
“Nothing,” she said.
Too, I thought his capture would be a coup of considerable dimension, and one whose fame would be soon registered on the public boards of a dozen cities, whispered about a thousand campfires, even as far north as the forests, but, here, too, I had, as yet, heard nothing.
